


Don't Rush

by Phoenix0in0the0dark



Series: Haikyuu!! Musicians [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Cellist Kenma, College verse, Cute, Fluff, Gen, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, KuroKen - Freeform, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, Part of a verse???, Pianist Kuroo, Romantic or platonic you decide - Freeform, Snark and Sarcasm, Violinist Kuroo, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 05:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix0in0the0dark/pseuds/Phoenix0in0the0dark
Summary: Kenma is a cellist and best friends with pianist and violinist Kuroo Tetsurou. He loves playing the cello and wants to play for his college, but first he has to get through the audition. Kuroo is awesome, and Kenma is anxious.





	Don't Rush

**Author's Note:**

> I just really want Kenma to play the cello.

Kenma never rushed. Well, ok, Kenma _rarely_ rushed. When he played alone, in his room, or with Kuroo, his bow was steady, and his left hand was in perfect alignment with his right. He and Kuroo fit comfortably together, a result of a decade in each other’s constant presence. When he played with his best friend, his cello fit easily between his legs, his back was straight but not tense, and his hold on his bow rarely waivered. Because Kuroo was Kuroo. He had no expectations, at least, not any that put undue pressure on Kenma. Because Kenma was Kenma and Kuroo was Kuroo and they fit better than puzzle pieces chopped by the same die.

                But, the problem was those few times that Kenma did rush. The times when his chest tightened and his hand trembled and his bow shook over the string. When his arm moved faster and faster because he needed to be done, he needed to leave and to _run away because he couldn’t breathe and was the song over ye-_

                “Kenma, you’ll be fine,” Kuroo snapped him out of his musings. “I can hear your head working over there and I’m concerned the smell of smoke will set off the alarms.”

                Kuroo was splayed on the bed, on _Kenma’s_ bed, reading a book he had found on the ground of their shared dorm room. Either that or he had stolen it from someone else’s room which was as plausible a scenario as any.

                “If we had any smoke alarms left in this building, your cooking would have set them off this morning,” Kenma deflected Kuroo’s initial comment with snark.

                “Hey,” Kuroo sat up defensively, “our omelets were _lightly singed_ ; it’s good for you I’m sure.”

                “Mine was crunchy.”

                “That could have been egg shells instead of any burned food,” Kuroo tried.

                “Because that’s any better,” Kenma muttered.

                “You’re just giving me lip because you’re nervous about the auditions,” Kuroo accused putting his book down to glare lightly at the back of Kenma’s head.

                Kenma tilted his head to cover his face with his hair, his silence as close to agreement as Kuroo would ever get, they both knew.

                Kuroo sighed and made to get up, but Kenma stopped him.

                “I’m fine, I mean I’m nervous, but I’ll get over it.” Kenma bit his lip as Kuroo studied him through the curtain of his partially blond hair.

                “Come on.” Kuroo pushed himself off the bed and grabbed his old Nekoma jacket. Kenma stared at him.

                “We’re gonna go practice your music even though I know you can already play it with your eyes closed because you can’t stand to do nothing.” Kuroo held the door open and waited, cocking his eyebrow at Kenma’s lack of movement. “Come on,” he repeated, gesturing with his head in a way that might have been intended to entice Kenma, much like you’d encourage a cat to eat its dinner.

                Kenma begrudgingly began to move, standing up and grabbing his own Nekoma jacket and his cello in its case. He shuffled past Kuroo who held the door open for him and made a grand, sweeping gesture with his arm as Kenma passed him that made Kenma snort in an undignified manner.

                As they walked to one of the many practice rooms near their dorm, Kuroo took Kenma’s cello from him and held it himself as was their habit from walking home together after school for so many years so Kenma could play a game with his free hands. It was comfortable, walking side by side with Kuroo, hands stuffed in his pockets to protect him from the evening chill. He glanced at Kuroo sideways. He looked content, humming quietly to himself, the cello was a familiar weight despite him not playing the instrument himself, and his mouth was twisted into a softer version of his trademark smirk. He looked like it was perfectly normal to leave his nice, warm dorm and walk across campus carrying someone else’s instrument because they were nervous. To Kuroo it probably felt like it was, this wasn’t the first or last time Kuroo had gone out of his was for Kenma.

                “Thanks, Kuroo.” Kuroo glanced at him, but Kenma had looked away, at the ground and didn’t meet his eyes.

                “Nothing to it, Kitten,” Kuroo dismissed, while swinging his free arm around Kenma’s shoulders. He was warm and Kenma burrowed into his side knowing that Kuroo understood.

                “Don’t call me that,” Kenma muttered in a token protest even though they both knew that he didn’t really mind after all these years. Kuroo huffed a chuckle under his breath and tugged Kenma in tighter under his arm.

                They reached an empty room, not that it was hard to find one past ten at night, and Kuroo carefully placed Kenma’s cello on the floor before taking a seat on the piano bench and looking at Kenma expectantly.

                “You don’t even have your violin, how are you gonna play with me?”

                Kuroo patted the closed cover of the piano, “I’m sure I’ll manage with my trusty pal here.”

                “Kuroo, you’ve been playing piano for a semester.”

                “Have you no faith in my abilities? Kenma you wound me down to my very soul.” Kuroo clasped his hand to his heart dramatically, still grinning at Kenma.

                “You don’t have a soul-”

                “Tch.”

                “-or the sheet music, Kuroo.”

                Kuroo turned to him, dropping his hand from his chest and arching an eyebrow.

                “You think I don’t know that you’ve printed the piano accompaniment to whichever piece you seriously consider?”

                “How did you-?”

                “The same way I know you have the violin and bass music in there, too.” Kuroo studied him. “Probably the viola music, too.”

                Kuroo finally opened the cover and began to play a few scales, warming up his fingers, “I know you, kitten, don’t act so surprised. I know you’d play off the conductor sheet music for everything if it weren’t such a bitch to print. You like to know how everything fits together,” his friend commented offhandedly as if having such in-depth knowledge about anybody was normal. Kuroo was almost as observant as Kenma when it came to Kenma himself.

                Kenma sighed in assent and began to take out his cello, tune, rosin, and organize his music on the unbearably squeaky and stubborn music stand in front of him. He handed his friend the piano music Kuroo had rightfully deduced the existence of after running through a few scales himself.

                “Ah, Vivaldi. I haven’t played him since Gloria my sophomore year. What a bitch that was.”

                “You just sucked at string crossing,” Kenma reminded him.

                “Too true. The Four Seasons?”

                “Winter,” Kenma confirmed.

                “Second movement?”

                “Third.”

                “I prefer the second myself.”

                “That’s because you’re a violinist.”

                “Yeah?” Kuroo grinned, waiting.

                “The second movement is fairly easy for violinists, but sounds dramatic giving the effect of seeming harder than it is. You’re just lazy.”

                Kuroo chuckled in agreement, turning back to the keys in front of him and scanning the music.

                “Count us off, pick up to measure four?” He suggested, after a moment to familiarize himself with the music and indicating the measure where Kenma actually started playing.

                “Sure,” Kenma agreed. Despite Kenma’s earlier comment, he knew that Kuroo would be fine essentially sight reading the piece, he had always been good with that. He had full faith in his friend’s abilities, another reason they clicked. In fact, had Kuroo been playing his violin, neither of them would have even bothered with a count off in the first place, a look and slight head movements were usually sufficient, but with a newer instrument, the familiarity and consistency of counting off would give Kuroo one less thing to worry about.

                “1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and” they were off. Playing with Kuroo was like wrapping himself in an old hoodie, familiar and comfortable, homey even. They both fell into the rhythm fairly quickly, Kenma even closing his eyes as his body remembered the music and his hands took over for his brain. His brain only got in the way anyway.

                Kuroo only made a few small mistakes, to his credit, missed an incidental or an insignificant timing issue. But, soon they were both perfectly in tune, in time with each other, letting the notes and the dynamics rule them as a benevolent deity. As the last notes rang through the room, Kenma lingered, eyes closed, fingers still forming the last note, small vibrato hanging in the air.

                The room seemed to sigh as the piece ended, the air heavy but not unpleasantly so, Kenma felt swaddled in music and warmth. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

                When he opened his eyes and turned to glance at Kuroo, his friend was already looking at him, lips cocked in a half smile.

                “When you’re nervous tomorrow, pretend you’re playing with me.”

                Kenma turned away, knowing Kuroo was still facing him. Kuroo wasn’t offended by his silence; once again, he knew it held gratitude that Kenma couldn’t make himself speak.

                “Want to run through it again?”

                Kenma nodded and placed his bow back on the string counting them off for the same place.

                They played through the sunrise and into the dawn before they packed up and went to bed. Despite his lack of sleep, Kenma felt better than he had the past week.

                Climbing into his bed after carefully tucking his cello away, Kenma burrowed into the blankets and watched Kuroo go about getting ready for bed. Before climbing into his own bed, though, he looked over at Kenma, chuckling at the drooping golden eyes peeking out from a veritable mountain of blankets. He stalked over and kissed Kenma’s forehead, smoothing Kenma’s hair back against the pillow.

                “Night, Kenma,” he whispered, sliding into bed.

                “Night, Kuroo.”

oOo

                The next morning (if it was still that) Kuroo bribed Kenma into wakefulness with coffee (black like Kenma’s soul, Kuroo had quipped) and at least upright on his bed. Groaning at the prospect of leaving the solace of unconsciousness, Kenma curled himself around his mostly empty steaming cup, pulling his legs up and hunching over the heat source, back to the wall. He let his eyes fall closed until a weight sinking onto his mattress prompted him to shuffle over to one side.

                Kuroo inserted himself into Kenma’s space and wrapped a long arm around his shoulders, leaning his impossible bedhead against Kenma’s dual toned hair.

                “Morning,” Kuroo yawned. Kenma grunted, turning his face into Kuroo’s chest, content with using his taller friend as a heater like a cat reclined on a vent.

                “The audition’s today,” Kenma commented into Kuroo’s collarbone.

                “Is it? I had no idea; you’ve only been practicing incessantly for a month.” Kuroo snorted when Kenma elbowed his side, but didn’t move away.

                “Go with me?” Kenma asked quietly, still not looking up at his friend but knowing the answer.

                “Always, kitten.”

oOo

                He couldn’t do it. There was no way. The universe rarely gave signs, but in this case it sent a huge, flashing neon “NO” Kenma’s way. The audition was not going to happen, not today, probably not ever.

                Initially he had been thankful for his late audition time, for being in the back of the line, he would at least have time to collect his thoughts and warm up properly instead of being rushed.

                He was so, so wrong.

                As the line dwindled, his thoughts scattered like someone had yelled “Fire!” in a crowded room. His restfulness and tentative confidence of that morning had evaporated leaving him winded and vulnerable.

                Another name was called, another musician disappeared through the door, and Kenma ran. He ran through the halls to the closest bathroom, darting in to the nearest open stall and slamming it closed behind him. He ignored the weird stares he had inevitably garnered with his “bat out of hell” performance and sat on the closed toilet. Kenma pressed his palms into his closed eyes and tried to keep his breathing in check as waves of fear and stress crashed over him.

                In. Out. In. Out. In out in out inoutinout _inoutinout-_

                “Kenma.” Kuroo.

                Kenma wasn’t surprised his friend had found him; he had practice, years of it.

                “Kenma, breathe with me.” Kuroo gripped his wrist, pulled it from its clenched position and held Kenma’s hand firmly against his chest. “Listen to me, breathe, Kenma.”

                _Inoutinout_ inoutinout in out in out. In. Out.

                “Ok, that’s good, you’re doing so good, kitten, so good.” Kuroo kept up a monologue, drowning out the angry buzzing in Kenma’s ears.

                Kenma opened his eyes to a blurry, concerned Kuroo kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor, still holding his hand. Blurry? Oh, those were tears, Jesus, when had he started crying?

                Kenma used his free hand to wipe at his eyes and dropped his gaze from Kuroo’s questioning one.

                “I don’t know, it just happened.” Kuroo was unimpressed. _He knows me too well._

                “Come on, talk to Uncle Kuroo, Kenma.” Kenma snorted wetly.

                “Only if you never say that again.”

                “Deal.” His voice is soft with worry.

                “I didn’t want everyone to know.” Kuroo stayed quiet, knowing more was coming, albeit slowly. He always gave Kenma time when he needed it.

                “If I played in front of people…they would know I’m not any good. I’m not good at anything really, except playing video games and avoiding human contact. I’m terrible at the cello. I’ve been playing for years and I have no skill to show for it. I’m shit, I’m-”

                “Hey,” Kuroo stopped him, voice deep and disapproving, “that’s my best friend you’re talking about there and I won’t stand for it.”

                “Kuro-”

                “No, Kenma look at me.” Kenma raised his gaze, eyes darting around before landing on Kuroo’s earnest ones.

                “Have I ever lied to you?”

                “What?”

                “Answer me; have I ever lied to you?” Kuroo persisted.

                “…No.”

                “Ok, so you can believe me when I say no one is going to find you out because there is no dirty secret you’re hiding.”

                “Ku-” Kuroo pushed through, interrupting him again.

                “You are a good cellist. You are. And you’re ready for this audition.”

                “But, the judges...”

                “Are people.” Kuroo picked up his sentence fluidly as if it were an obvious conclusion to Kenma’s half formed thought.

                “They are people who make mistakes and get nervous and have played wrong notes and bowings and dynamics because they’re human. You don’t have to be perfect, they aren’t expecting perfection, they’re watching for potential and ability which you have in spades.”

                Kenma sniffed.

                “I have it on good authority that at least one of them was once a human child. Maybe two.”

                Kenma chuckled, breathing a sigh.

                “You’re right,”

                “Usually am,” Kuroo interjected.

                “But, I’m having a hard time believing you, in trusting myself.”

                “Then don’t.” Kenma looked up at Kuroo sharply.

                “If you can’t trust yourself right now, trust yourself last night and this past week when you practiced sunrise to sunset. Trust your preparation, trust your instrument, and trust your muscle memory. Above all, trust me.” Kuroo stood and grinned then down at Kenma, sharp and self-satisfied. “I have enough faith in you to power a moderately sized city, certainly enough for the both us. And we’ve established that I’ve never lied to you. I don’t intend to, Kenma. You can do this, I know it.”

                Kenma gazed up at Kuroo, a bit in awe. When had Kuroo Tetsurou become so wise and capable? Kuroo offered his hand and Kenma stood, too. He was still considerably shorter than his friend, but he felt taller than he had about 20 minutes ago.

                They left the bathroom in silence, Kenma once again tucked under Kuroo’s arm. When they emerged from the hallway into the waiting room, Kenma did a quick head count. They had just begun calling the cellos in when he broke and ran, and there seemed to be no cellos left—no wait, the last cello before Kenma had just left the audition room, cello in hand.

                “Kozume Kenma?” Someone called. It was Kenma’s turn.

                “We can ask them to reschedule—” Kuroo began.

“No, I can do this, I want to do this.” Kenma turned to Kuroo and searched the other’s gaze desperately, he wasn’t sure what for. All he found was affection and concern. Whatever Kuroo found in his own gaze must have convinced him because his lips stretched into a Cheshire grin and the worry in his eyes was replaced with confidence.

“All right, go ‘em, Kitten.” Kenma turned and approached the door as a female voice called out his surname again. He turned and walked to the door, cello case gripped in his cold hand. Before he fully stepped into the room, he turned to get a glimpse of Kuroo mock saluting him with two fingers as the door shut. He felt his face smile of its own accord, and his freezing hands began to thaw, just a little bit. Kenma walked to the chair and stood facing the table of judges across him.

“Kozume Kenma?” asked the same lady who had called him in before. He opened his mouth to speak but the words stuck in his throat.

“You are Kozume, right?” The lady asked not unkindly, even sending him a warm smile, easing him further. Kenma cleared his throat helplessly and nodded his confirmation before he found his voice again.

“Yes, I am, thank you for hearing me.” Kenma bowed and took his seat, getting ready to play.

“Whenever you’re ready, hon,” prompted the nice lady from before, the rest of the judges were impassive but not harsh.

Kenma placed his bow on the strings but didn’t move, thinking. He felt the cloud descend over his thoughts.

_Above all, trust me_. His eyes closed despite the sheet music in front of him. He could do that, he could trust Kuroo. He could pretend that Kuroo was with him on the piano or the violin or even just existing with him.

Kenma drew in a breath and pulled the bow across the strings. He was nervous, but he didn’t rush. The rhythm and tempo were ingrained in his hands even if his mind was racing. He could practically hear Kuroo playing next to him, grounding him in quarter notes and consistency. While his finger may not have nailed every single note perfectly, even he could tell that he was playing well. The music swelled and dropped when it was supposed to, vibrato breathed life into longer notes keeping them full. Kuroo was right; he did like knowing what the other instruments were supposed to sound like. Even now, he could hear the crescendo in the violins and the steady but incessant basses. His body began to move with the music, his head was pulled with the notes, his eyes still closed and his breathing even despite his elevated heart rate.

The music ended, the final note drawn out by his gently oscillating fingertip. Again came that familiar, pregnant silence that comes with a completed piece awaiting judgment.

He opened his eyes to the judges staring at him. The nice lady smiled again, but this time there was something behind her smile. _I know something you don’t know_ , it seemed to say. He liked her, he decided. She was nice, motherly, comforting.

“Thank you, Kozume, you’ll be hearing from us in the next week or so,” she said, dismissing him kindly, still wearing that smile. He bowed and left collecting his cello and sheet music carefully before all but running out the door he had come in.

Seconds after opening the door, Kuroo was there, grinning. His right hand took Kenma’s cello while his left draped itself lazily over Kenma’s smaller frame. As they walked to their dorm to drop off Kenma’s cello, he kept pace with Kuroo’s stride easily, relishing the warmth and unexpected euphoria of finishing the audition.

“So?” Kuroo asked excitedly about a minute and a half into their self-imposed silence. Honestly Kenma was impressed he had gone this long. “How did it go?”

“It went ok.” Kenma said, surprising himself and Kuroo at the tentative positivity of his statement. Still caught up in his relief, he smiled up at Kuroo. A real, wide grin that made his eyes squint a little and his teeth show.

Kuroo almost stumbled, stunned, and stared at Kenma’s face long after Kenma had looked away. Eventually his surprise melted into fondness and a bit of pride.

“I’m glad, kitten.” Kuroo squeezed Kenma a little tighter and faced forward again.

oOo

                “So,” Kuroo began, trying for a subtle approach. Kenma glanced up from his game briefly before refocusing on his DS when Kuroo didn’t continue.

                “Spit it out Kuroo.” Ok, apparently not as subtle as he’d hoped.

                “Well, I just, you know, thought I’d mention, that, you know,” Kuroo tripped over his words.

                “Cat got your tongue?” Kenma sounded decidedly unimpressed, still not looking up from his game.

                “Ha-ha. I just meant that they posted the results from your audition yesterday, and you haven’t, you know, looked.” Kenma still didn’t look up from his game, unfazed.

                “I’m aware.”

                “And?” Kuroo pressed.

                “And what?” Kenma intoned.

                “Don’t you wanna know?” Kenma paused his game and looked straight at Kuroo, eyes betraying nothing. A few moments passed with Kenma staring into Kuroo’s _very soul_ before he shrugged and went back to his game.

                “I’m good.”

                “You’re good?”

                “Yep.”

                “Just fine with not knowing?”

                “Pretty much.” Kuroo deflated, then pouted.

                “But, _I_ wanna know, Kenma!” He whined.

                “Then go look, the list is posted in the audition room.” Kenma’s flat voice needled at Kuroo and he flopped over onto Kenma’s lap over his game and probable killing his character.

                “Kenmaaaaa, you have to go with meeee” Kuroo spread his long limbs over Kenma, crushing him but grinning all the while.

                “Kuroo, get off.”

                “Only if you agree to go look with me.”

                “Meh.”

                “I’ll buy you food.”

                “…”

                “Apple pie.”

                “Done,” Kenma agreed and pushed Kuroo onto the floor in an undignified heap. The taller of the two squawked indignantly as Kenma stood and brushed off imaginary dirt.

                “That was mean, kitten.”

                “That’s not my name, Tetsurou.”

                “Puddinghead.”

                “Bedhead.”

                “Hey, that was below the belt.”

                “Only when your head’s in your ass.”

                “Touché,” Kuroo consented, holding the door for Kenma as they left.

oOo

                “You little shit.”

                “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kenma drawled, licking the leftover whipped cream off his spoon.

                “’All qualifiers will have been notified directly by e-mail as well as listed below.’ That’s what the list says. You already knew that you made it into the orchestra.”

                “I did.”

                “And you didn’t tell me! Me! Your best friend! You didn’t mention that you beat out dozens of players to play in an orchestra!” Kuroo accused Kenma who looked about as unconcerned as a cat would be about a housefly.

                “This was more fun.” Kuroo gaped at him. “And this way I got free pie.” Kuroo spluttered, about to regale Kenma with the tale of his heart splitting in two due to the callous actions of his best friend when he noticed something. Kenma’s ears and cheeks were faintly flushed. He was embarrassed, but pleased. Kuroo’s mouth shut abruptly. Kenma hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but was secretly happy that Kuroo had made a big deal about it.

                “Shut up and eat your victory pie,” Kuroo pouted. Kenma rolled his eyes before lifting up to his toes and kissing Kuroo’s cheek. Just as quickly, he dropped to his normal height next to Kuroo and dug into the remains of his pie. Kuroo shook his head fondly and assumed their typical position with Kenma tucked into his side and his arm slung around the blond’s shoulders.

                As they walked back to their dorm, Kuroo ducked down to kiss Kenma’s forehead and whispered into his hair, “I am really proud of you, you know.” Kenma peered up at him.

                “Thanks, Kuroo.” They kept walking.

**Author's Note:**

> We’re going to pretend “Winter” by Vivaldi is more of a cello piece; I am but a humble violinist who really likes the second movement and doesn’t know anything about cellos or cello music. Yes, I like it because I’m lazy and it sounds pretty. Also I have a weakness for Kuroo calling Kenma “kitten” can you tell?


End file.
